


5 Times Will Graham Came in his Pants (and 1 time he didn't)

by foxontherun



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Frottage, HANNIGRAM STARTS IN CHAPTER 3, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Will is a Mess, minor dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:30:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxontherun/pseuds/foxontherun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just what it sounds like - Will Graham is an awkward little horny pup and it takes Hannibal's magical cannibal powers to make it all better. This is a prompt-fill for sun-to-sirius :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

.1.

 

Will Graham looks down at Mandy Harte, on her knees before him. He is 15, a shy, strikingly beautiful boy with unruly curls and eyes the color of ocean swells. Riding the electric edge of puberty. He has never even kissed a girl before, and now here they are, in Will's tiny bedroom, and Mandy has made her intentions clear. He takes a shaky breath. She is a sweet-looking, slightly waifish girl, small breasts pressing against a discount blouse, and Will's heart tugs painfully in his chest, breath hitching, as she runs her palms up to the tops of his thighs. She's shy, intelligent, doesn't care that he's a freak, and she's being abused by someone in her family, Will knows, not her father, maybe an older brother (she has 4). He doesn't know how he knows, but he does. Her blouse slips down one shoulder as she reaches for the buckle of his belt, and he's been hard for hours, it seems, his cock pressing against his pants with a sensation that is both thrilling and excruciating. He can feel slickness coating the inside of his briefs, and he lets out a moan as she palms him through them, her small hand caressing him in a way that suggests that she has done this before. He doesn't want to think about it.

He leans down then, to bring her face up to his, span her delicate skull with his fingers, threading them through fine blonde hair, and he kisses her, just a press of lips to lips. She tastes a little of peppermint lip gloss, and his cock twitches as her mouth opens to his, tongue flicking inside, and the hot wet feeling of her makes his hips jerk. She closes her eyes and lets out a little sigh, leaning into the kiss, her hand working him through his pants, and he feels so taut, rigid, his entire body thrumming with energy and want, jolts of arousal racing downwards with every twist of their tongues together. He's dizzy, dizzy, and the want is so painful and _why is she teasing him like this? She's a bitch. Bitch. Whore. She deserves this, it's all she's good for, she should take it like a good little slut._ His brain is screaming at him, terrifying and loud and suddenly his grip on her skull tightens a fraction, _what a worthless bitch who is she to cry and complain? She's his to play with, and he's going to make her feel so good, so good and so bad and she won't ever tell daddy because it's her fault for strutting around flaunting her body everywhere like the whore that she is, and daddy will be so disappointed with her, she's not his good little girl any more, not a good little girl any more, not ever again, and oh he should have had her as a virgin, her hole was so tight and he just wants to flip her over and pound into her until she screams and -_

Will rockets back on his bed, scrambling away from her as he feels the last of his orgasm draining out of him. His pants are wet and sticky, and he realizes that there are tears on his face and he can vaguely see Mandy staring at him, horrified. He doesn't know what he did, but he knows what happened, it has happened before, but never this strong, never the thoughts and visions tearing up his head from the inside and oh god, what is Mandy going to do? To say? Will she tell people at school that the freak flipped out while she was making out with him and came in his pants and screamed abuse at her?

There is a long moment where neither of them says anything, Mandy looking at Will and Will looking at his fists gripping his bedsheets, and he waits for the inevitable accusations. Freak. Creep. He has never been normal, will never be normal. He is an empty vessel waiting to be filled by other people's desires and emotions and pain and anger. The tears are still coming, but are they his, or hers?

"Please don't tell anyone," she says, voice low. "Please don't tell."


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will looks at him. His eyes are very blue, and his lashes so light they almost disappear. He is radiant with energy and good humor and the most beautiful, healthy thing Will has had in his life, maybe ever.

Will Graham has never met anybody quite like Matt Adams - funny, good looking, and amiable, friends with everybody, expansive, kind. The first day they met, in their bleak underfurnished dorm room on orientation day, Matt had clapped him on the back, introduced himself, and launched into an anecdote about an encounter with three RAs and a urine-stained couch that had sent him into guffaws that had even Will, undernourished and shrinking back from nerves, cracking a smile. It is a blessing, in a life that has been lacking in such things so far, that he has ended up with somebody so uncomplicated and genuine as a roommate. Will is a lonely boy, whip-smart but crackly at the best of times, and half ashamed, half afraid at his uncanny gift at reading people. Matt is like a long expanse of water - beautiful in his own way, but crystal clear and soothing. Nothing hidden or dangerous in his psyche, nothing for Will to get lost in.

He falls in love hard, with this peaceful boy. It doesn't take long.

 

He realizes fairly quickly that people don't understand their friendship. Matt is on the lacrosse team, rugged, girls falling all over him, and he plays it up, everybody's pal, hail fellow well met, and all that. Will is a retiring, studious sort, his own startling beauty hidden under a thick layer of pathos, meticulously self-constructed to avoid getting too close to people. Girls stare at him, sometimes, in classes, with a sort of wistfulness that Will doesn't understand, when he notices. He just blushes and pushes his glasses up his nose. Matt's other close friends are a welcoming bunch, as a whole, a diverse group of raucous entertainers, throwing back beers and lounging in bean bag chairs, and some of them say hi to Will, and smile at him, but he knows it's only for Matt's sake they're doing it. He appreciates it, but it brings up a swell of bitter loneliness that he has to bite back, turning another page in his book.

 

Matt is easy to talk to. They talk about their parents, about high school, books, and classes. They talk about philosophy and comedy and loneliness. Sometimes, late at night, Will can hear Matt jacking off in his bed, trying not to make too much noise, but the sound of his stifled breaths carry Will into his mind, deep, where he doesn't usually go, and he tries to sleep, cupping his hard cock under the sheets, wanting nothing more than to go over to Matt's bed and place his hand over Matt's, his mouth, anything. Usually he wakes up to sticky sheets.

 

They never take about romance, or girls, or dates.

 

A few weeks before Easter, Will is lounging on his bed, reading a comic book and trying to ignore the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes. Matt throws the door open and slides Will a mischevious look. Will glances up, one eyebrow raised.

 

"Don't give me that look," he says, "I know that look and I don't like that look."

 

Matt flops down on the bed beside him.

 

"You love that look," he replies, grinning. "Everybody loves that look."

 

It's true, but Will won't give his ego any coddling. "What's up, Adams," he asks, putting his comic book down.

 

"Plans for tonight?" Matt asks innocently.

 

Will shoots him a disgruntled look. "Do you even have to ask that? Let me guess: hanging out with you doing something possibly illegal."

 

"Bingo." Matt adjusts his spot on the bed. His arms are brushing Will's, but he doesn't seem to notice. "We're gonna have some fun tonight."

 

"Define 'fun'," Will says.

 

"That thing that you don't have enough of and should probably start taking advantage of now because you're gonna be an old man soon," Matt answers, waggling his eyebrows.

 

"Ok, I'll bite," Will says, turning to him. "What exact flavor of fun are we having tonight that I absolutely cannot miss out on because you only go to college once?"

 

"I got us some E," Matt replies, handing Will a small white tablet with a crown printed on it. Will frowns at it. "Look," Matt says, "I know you don't usually, you know, break the rules, but I think you need to loosen up. Exams are over, we have 2 weeks vacation coming up, and I don't think your whole academic life will go down the toilet if you just let loose this one time."

 

Will looks at him. His eyes are very blue, and his lashes so light they almost disappear. He is radiant with energy and good humor and the most beautiful, healthy thing Will has had in his life, maybe ever.

 

"What the hell," he says, and pops the pill in his mouth, laughing at the expression on Matt's face.

 

.x.

 Will is very warm. Very warm and everything he looks at has a soft halo of light around it. It shimmers. It's magical. The air feels electric, alive. He's watching Matt talk, and the shape that his lips inscribe in the space of the earth that he occupies is the most wonderful thing Will has ever seen. He wants to climb inside Matt's mouth and live there in that wet cavern. He starts to laugh at this thought, and Matt stops in the middle of his story to join in, because really, isn't everything just incredible?

 

"What are you laughing at," Matt asks, in between giggles.

 

"I want to live in your mouth," Will gasps out, almost doubled over. "It looks so...so...comfortable,"

 

Will continues to laugh at this, but after awhile he notices that Matt is looking at him with that same wistful look he's sometimes noticed in class.

 

"What?" Will asks, his whole body feeling so warm and alive he just wants to take his clothes off and let waves of air lap at his bare skin. He's focusing on the sensation of his pants brushing against his upper thighs, when Matt moves closer to him. Now he can feel the heat of Matt's body radiating through his clothes and it is almost unbearably good, so good, he wants to kiss Matt. He wants to feel that mouth, hot and wet against his own. Matt dips his head down and gently presses his lips to Will's, and will feels a bolt of excitement and lust shiver through his body. He moans into the kiss, opening his mouth to feel Matt's tongue against his own, slick and invading. Matt bites gently on Will's lower lip and runs a hand through Wills curls, tugging gently. They part after minutes, and stare at each other, panting.

 

"Did you know?" Matt asks, finally, running one finger up Will's upper arm to just under his chin. "Did you know how much I wanted you?"

 

Will is staring at him, caught in a silken net of aroused stupor, watching the blackness of Matt's pupils swallow up his ice-blue eyes. "I had no fucking clue, you idiot," He says finally, grasping Matt's hand and bringing it to his mouth. "You should have said something."

 

Matt groans as Will brings two of his fingers to his mouth to suckle. "I've been hounding you like a lovesick puppy from the moment I met you, you clueless fuck," he says, digging one of his fingers into Will's tongue. "You're the hottest...the hottest..." he stops, overcome, to press one hand to his crotch, rubbing at the burgeoning erection there.

 

Will leans in for another kiss, wanting to press as much skin as possible to the boy next to him. He wants to feel every inch of him, wants to taste his neck, the inner crease of his elbow, the salty skin of his cock. He jumps a bit when he feel's Matt's hand pressing over the hardness in his pants, and exhales harshly.

 

"I've never," he starts, "I've never...uh..."

 

"That's ok," Matt soothes, "we'll take it slow," and he mouths down Will's neck, pulling at his shirt, until WIll yanks it off himself, and Matt lowers down to one nipple, lapping at it and biting gently. Will arches up into his hand, it's too much, too much. Everything is warm and cold at the same time and he feels Matt's hand giving off electricity like a Tesla coil, and his cock is straining in his pants, the friction too delicious, the feel of the mouth gently tugging at his nipple too erotic, waves of lust building and building deep in his belly like a fire that has been untended too long. His lover moves his mouth to the other nipple and gives a nip with his teeth and the fire in Will's belly explodes outwards like an electric shock, all the brilliant colors he sees white out as his body arches up and he spills himself again and again, dampening the front of his pants and biting his lower lip, moaning hoarsely at the excess of sensation.

 

When he comes back to himself, Matt is smiling at him. He gently kisses Will's jaw, and his collar bone, and then traps his mouth for another kiss, tugging Will's hand to his lap. Will feels the outline of his hardness and bites gently at Matt's upper lip, unfastening his fly and drawing his hard cock forth, massaging it inexpertly but somehow knowing exactly how Matt likes it, seeing himself through Matt's eyes, a haunted, dreamily beautiful creature, otherworldly, and he sighs, never having seen himself in such a way before. It doesn't take long before Matt is cumming into Will's hand, his face pressed into Will's neck, growling and baring his teeth.

 

.x.

 

Will's luck never lasts for long. After a few more weeks of exploring Matt's body and laying together in the night, holding hands, Matt gets transferred to another dormitory, and a few weeks after that he is expelled for selling drugs to students in his hall. Will never sees him again.

 

But he often thinks about him, and about the beauty of simply feeling, without thinking.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannigram starts here, babes<333

The moment Will Graham meets Hannibal Lecter, his first thought is _I'm in trouble_.

Hannibal manages to be somehow emphatically present - occupying his space with breadth and finality, and yet also seemingly carved out of fine glass. It's not just that his features are almost shockingly angular and forceful, it's his manner, his presentation. He is like a lithograph, all fine lines and studied patterns. And yet his eyes shine at Will with a depth and warmth that belies his sharp outward appearance. He is utterly beautiful, and Will cannot read him at all. He's in trouble.

Because of his discomfort with both the man in front of him, and the situation in which he finds himself, Will manages to be more prickly and brittle than usual. He scowls at the floor and offers abrupt half-answers to the man's probing questions. And when delivered with a subtle, stunningly perceptive glimpse into his own mind, he snaps at the man and storms off, pausing outside the door to lean against the wall, pushing a hand through his unruly hair. What was it with him, exactly. Lecter hadn't meant to be offensive, but Will disliked probing too deeply into his inner self. Much easier to delve into other monsters than confront the one in his own heart. He hears Jack Crawford and Dr. Lecter's voices faintly through the door, but doesn't dwell, choosing to flee to his classroom like a spooked animal. Hannibal Lecter. There are unplumbed depths there that Will feels a sharp tugging in his chest to explore. What would it take to crack that glass? What lies underneath the sharply etched outline of a man that he had just met?

 

//

 

Will wakes in the dull early hours of the morning, hard from a dream that he can't quite pull back into reality with him. He sprawls on his damp sheets, breathing deeply and evenly, trying to bring his world back into focus from the hazy landscape of sleep he's just left. His cock is calming down some, but it still aches, untouched in his shorts, and he palms himself, trying to summon up an easy fantasy to escape into. The memory of Hannibal Lecter's mouth floats into his mind, and he shakes his head, trying to detach it. He has to see Lecter in two days for a psych eval, and it would be truly awkward to have to do so with the image of himself splayed out like this, fist on his cock, springing to mind with every quirk of the man's admittedly gorgeous lips.

The image isn't leaving. If anything, the more he thinks about Hannibal, the more interested his body seems, so he lets go, gets up, pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a ratty coat, and stands outside in the cold, watching his dogs sniff around the yard, hoping to distract himself.

It isn't working.

He sees himself kneeling in front of the older man, fingers clenched in the sumptuous fabric around his upper thighs. Lecter has his hands entwined in Will's hair and is tugging, harder and harder, exposing Will's throat. He imagines palming the psychiatrist's cock through his trousers, feeling an answering jerk of the hardening flesh there, and his own body responds with a startling bolt of arousal. There he is, the real man behind the facade, hungry and animal, light glinting in the blackness of his pupils as he tugs Will's face into his crotch, growls low in his throat as Will rubs his cheek against the man's erection, and then mouths it sloppily, dampening the fabric, feeling his length pressing against his tongue, heavy and hot.

Will is slowly working his length, hand dug inside his pants and underwear, mindless of the cold and of his dogs now nosing around the door behind him. He is painfully hard as he imagines himself casting around inside Hannibal's head for the darkness he can sense is there, and finding only lust and hunger, enthralling, demanding hunger. His cock is wet with fluid as the Hannibal in his head tugs Will to his feet roughly by his hair and shoulder, gripping his chin with tightening fingers and licking a stripe up his neck, mouthing and then biting along his jawline. Not quick nips, but bites he can feel, the sharp points of the man's fang-like canines digging into his flesh as they move together, their cocks sliding in tandem, the feeling of flesh on flesh stunningly intimate and arousing. Hannibal's hands move down Will's spine to grip his ass firmly, tugging him closer, and their movements become more erratic, desperate, and Hannibal's tongue is invading his mouth, testing the edges of his teeth, a slick, mobile organ thrusting inside him to the rhythm of their hips, and Will can feel Hannibal stiffen, grasping him to the point of pain as he comes with a groan, his seed hot and wet against Will's stomach as Will thrusts one more time and feels himself crest over the edge of pleasure, sucking on Hannibal's tongue as he moans out his release, his cock staining Hannibal's pristine suit with thick ropes of come.

Will returns back to himself in stages, disentangling from his fantasy to find himself shivering on his front porch, pants stained and sticky, cold air lapping at his skin where it is bared.

_I'm in trouble_ , he thinks again, as he heads inside to clean himself up.


End file.
